Thom Gibbs likes football a lot. He also likes cricket. And horse racing. And F1. In short: he likes lots of sports. He's not so keen on rugby, but let's not worry about that.

Let John Terry have his kit and eat it if he likes, he's an amusingly lost cause

Kit man: John Terry celebrates after Chelsea won the European Cup and he freed himself from the tyranny of having to wear an expensive suit (GETTY IMAGES)

I’m not a fan of John Terry’s. I’m not patriotic. Most pertinently, I support QPR. In spite of all of this I was happy when Didier Drogba scored Chelsea’s winning penalty on Saturday night. I would have been equally happy to see Chelsea lose 5-0 and John Terry in tears. That he celebrated in the style of an excitable seven year old afterwards, donning full kit and possibly his shin pads too, makes no difference to me. You've got to take your joy where you can with football, especially when watching it as a neutral, and on this occasion this joy came from seeing a new team win the Champions League in exciting (well, in the end) circumstances.

It's not hard to make a case against John Terry, which is perhaps why I’ve found it slightly tiresome to see him pilloried so relentlessly since he tore off his training wear and ran onto the pitch to celebrate with his team-mates as if he’d been out there all along.

It's absurd, childish, silly behaviour but what were you expecting from football, especially in this ridiculous season? Dignity? Restraint? Maturity? Have you considered cricket?

(Terry’s antics reminded me that that sport has an unnecessary kit-wearing loon of its own. I refer you to the possibly apocryphal but undeniably excellent story about Eric Clapton who, according to his ex-wife, would settle down in front of the TV for a day’s coverage of the Test in full whites and pads.)

Terry, whether you like him (read: support Chelsea) or not (read: everyone else) can celebrate however he likes. The example of Paul Scholes and Roy Keane has been invoked by Terry’s critics, with their response to Manchester United’s Champions League win of 1999 held up as The Way These Things Are Supposed To Be Done.

Scholes and Keane, suspended for the final, wore matching suits, did not storm to the front of all the photos and trudged around looking slightly miserable. Good for them. What would you prefer if you supported a team that had just won a major trophy? Players wrapped up in their own disappointment at missing out on personal glory, or players delighted about the achievement of their team, their club?

Chelsea’s other suspendees Raul Meireles, Ramires and Branislav Ivanovic were also kitted out for the celebrations but seem to have escaped the burning impotent rage of our glorious public.

But slamming Terry is the easy option and made ever-so tempting by his wounded, dopey interview persona. In the PR-sanctioned sphere he’s the misunderstood fighter, the weeping penalty misser, the brave loser. We also all know that he is the perpetrator of a handful of horrifying incidents, and the discrepancy amplifies the widespread distaste for him.

What’s even more galling, and the unarguable riposte to any anger about how John Terry conducts himself, is that he couldn’t care less. The way he behaves is pure instinct, and governed only by the pursuit of personal pleasure. Disabled parking space? He’s having it, coz it’s easier, isn’t it? Dad of the year trophy? It’s got his gigantically hypocritical name on it. Someone’s attractive girlfriend? Yes please.

I think those getting properly angry with Terry on this occasion are jealous. A correctly hidden part of them wishes they had the lack of self-awareness to take what they wanted, act as tastelessly as they could get away with and never doubt anything.

A lot of the people I saw swearing about Terry on Twitter were also bemoaning Manchester City’s purchase of the Premier League title within minutes of Sergio Aguero’s decisive goal. If you can’t temporarily dismiss life’s cynical realities when a sporting moment as glorious as that is still happening you’re probably better off with the Business section.

When John Terry does genuinely awful things he deserves our scorn and punishment. But if you’re going to rile yourself by a display that’s as comic as a 30-something professional footballer pretending he’s a 30-something professional footballer that’s just played in a football match you’ll end up bitter, on Twitter, and calling everyone very rude names.

Football’s "soul" is gone, the battle is lost, if you’re going to stick with it you’ve got to accept that and focus on the little bits that still make it fun. The appropriate response to the stupidity of modern football is often just to laugh and make a silly picture. Here's one I made earlier:

I feel better already. John Terry, as ever, feels excellent. Because he's doing exactly what he wants.